‘This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans’ Netflix Series Review - Delicious Food, Ridiculous Decisions

There are two ways to approach a show like This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans. You can sit down and carefully analyze whether any of its plots make logical sense. Or you can accept that a man who cannot cook properly somehow enters a high-level culinary competition, immediately becomes a serious contender, falls in love with the intimidating chef running it, accidentally gets caught in a corporate sabotage scheme, and somehow emerges as the protagonist of an eight-episode romance. I strongly recommend the second approach. Because the moment you start asking practical questions, the entire series begins wobbling like a badly plated dessert. Thankfully, the show has enough charm to survive its own nonsense.

Based on the novel No Beans and Love Me More, the series revolves around Plawan, a food-loving influencer and model who finds himself financially desperate enough to accept a shady offer from wealthy businessman Methas. The plan is simple: enter Chef Oab's competition, win ownership of his beloved restaurant, and hand everything over to Methas for redevelopment. The only problem is that Plawan doesn't actually know how to cook.

Pon Thanapon Aiemkumchai plays Plawan, and while I initially struggled with the character, he gradually won me over. Plawan is not written as the sharpest person in Thailand. In fact, there are moments where his decision-making suggests he believes consequences are merely theoretical concepts invented by other people. Yet Pon somehow makes him likable. The performance leans heavily into sincerity rather than intelligence, and that turns out to be the correct choice. Plawan's warmth often compensates for the fact that many of his plans appear to have been developed during moments of severe sleep deprivation. Sailub Hemmawich Kwanamphaiphan is excellent as Chef Oab. Honestly, he's the reason the romance works as well as it does.

Oab could have easily become a generic cold, perfectionist chef stereotype, but Sailub gives him enough vulnerability beneath the stern exterior that the character feels genuinely human. His relationship with food, his restaurant, and the legacy he's trying to protect all add layers beyond the standard romantic lead template. More importantly, Sailub has real screen presence. Whenever Oab enters a scene, the show immediately becomes more focused.

The chemistry between Sailub and Pon is probably the series' greatest strength. If this pairing didn't work, the entire show would collapse faster than Plawan's cooking career should have in episode one. Thankfully, their interactions feel natural, playful, and increasingly believable as the series progresses. The romantic development takes a familiar path, but the actors elevate it. What surprised me most is that the secondary couple nearly steals the show.

Benz Atthanin Thaninpanuvivat as Methas and Garfield Pantach Kankham as JJ frequently become the most entertaining people in the room. Methas starts as an arrogant businessman who appears convinced that money can solve every problem in existence. JJ, a physiotherapist and Plawan's best friend, quickly discovers that his greatest challenge may be tolerating Methas for more than ten consecutive minutes. Their dynamic is fantastic. There's a fun energy to their scenes that occasionally surpasses the main romance. Benz and Garfield have excellent chemistry, and the writers wisely allow their relationship to develop through conflict, humor, and gradual emotional growth rather than simply rushing toward romance. Several times, I found myself hoping the show would spend more time with them.

Visually, the series knows exactly how to make viewers hungry. The food cinematography is borderline unfair. Every episode features close-ups, preparation sequences, plating shots, and cooking montages that seem specifically designed to make audiences abandon whatever meal they're currently eating and immediately order something better. At one point, I became more emotionally invested in a plate of basil pork than in certain supporting characters. That's probably a compliment.

The cooking competition itself provides a fun backdrop, even if it requires viewers to suspend a significant amount of disbelief. The restaurant culture, kitchen environments, and culinary themes give the series a distinct identity compared to many contemporary BL romances. The atmosphere remains light and easy to enjoy. And that's where the show succeeds most. Because while I enjoyed the series, the screenplay has the structural integrity of a shopping cart with one broken wheel.

The biggest issue is the central premise itself. Plawan's cooking abilities improve at a speed that would alarm actual culinary professionals. The show essentially asks viewers to accept that enthusiasm and romantic tension can replace years of training. I admire the optimism. The narrative also becomes painfully predictable at times. From the moment Plawan accepts Methas' offer, you can see most of the major conflicts approaching from several episodes away. Betrayal, discovery, emotional fallout, reconciliation—none of it is particularly surprising. The series doesn't exactly hide its cards. It practically waves them around while making direct eye contact.

There are also moments where Plawan becomes frustratingly immature. I understand that some of this is intentional character growth, but there were stretches where I wanted Oab to temporarily replace him with a competent refrigerator and see if the relationship became less stressful. The love triangle involving Kluea is another weak point. It never develops enough depth to become genuinely compelling, yet it occupies enough screen time to occasionally slow the narrative. Several episodes would have benefited from focusing more on the central relationships and less on romantic distractions that never fully justify their existence. The pacing is also uneven. The first half moves quickly and confidently, while parts of the middle stretch begin circling similar emotional conflicts. The show eventually recovers, but there are moments where it feels like it's stalling before the inevitable revelations arrive.

Still, I kept enjoying myself. Because despite all its flaws, This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans understands something many romance series forget: audiences don't necessarily need perfection. By the final episodes, I wasn't particularly invested in who won the competition or what happened to the restaurant. I cared about Oab and Plawan. I cared about Methas and JJ. I cared about whether these relationships could survive the increasingly absurd situations surrounding them. That's why the ending works.

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans is sweet, messy, funny, occasionally frustrating, and consistently watchable. Strong chemistry from Sailub Hemmawich Kwanamphaiphan and Pon Thanapon Aiemkumchai anchors a romance that rises above its predictable writing, while Benz Atthanin Thaninpanuvivat and Garfield Pantach Kankham nearly steal the entire show. The cooking premise is charming, the food looks incredible, and the emotional sincerity keeps everything engaging even when logic quietly leaves the building. It won't redefine the genre, but it's a warm, enjoyable series that understands exactly what kind of comfort-food television it wants to be.

Final Score- [7.5/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times